


I Can Dream About You

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Grindr prompt, JJ adores Yuri, M/M, Oral Sex, Pliroy, Rimming, Sappy as hell, abuse of an eighties song, sap, sarcasm as foreplay, semipublic handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Jean-Jacques’ life changes when he downloads Grindr.





	I Can Dream About You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Grindr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262871) by [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/pseuds/Phayte). 



> So [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/pseuds/Phayte) and I shared a prompt again. This time it was Grindr. Read hers if you haven’t already! (In fact you might wanna just read hers instead.)
> 
> Beta’d by [Annabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth), who has to deal with my whining way too much. 
> 
> Also, Linus and Alex are borrowed from Luscious White Flame’s Leroy sibling headcanon because I’m lazy and I like her hc. (Who doesn’t?)
> 
> Here’s the song, I Can Dream About You, if you’re interested:  
> https://youtu.be/auLyfd49-UE
> 
> The song isn’t very eighties, sort of. And the fic is very sappy and very tacky. I’m so sorry.

_I Can Dream About You_ is about as corny and sappy as it gets. Combined with Jean-Jacques’ parents dancing cheek to cheek and Jean-Jacques is surprised Yuri hasn’t jumped on a table and declared war on Canada.

“Don’t get any big ideas,” says Yuri Plisetsky. He’s rolling a second bite of wedding cake around in his mouth. There’s a dollop of Italian icing on his lower lip. And he is serious about this, Jean-Jacques was warned: _I’m not slow dancing. That fake shit makes me sick._

Jean-Jacques is relieved that Linus’ new in-law’s have an open bar because this Heineken is fantastic. “Nervous about dancing with the king?” He gets a gorgeous eye roll for that. “No fancy pirouettes but I might let you lead if you ask nice.”

“I hate you.” Yuri almost smiles. “You make Armani corny. It’s disgusting.” He kicks Jean-Jacques under the table. It’s from the flat of his sole. Its hard, but it doesn’t hurt. Jean-Jacques nudges Yuri’s foot. Then moves up his calf. “Really?”

Jean-Jacques toes his shoe off. “What?” He blinks when Yuri snorts. He leans back and rubs Yuri’s leg with his foot, under the tablecloth. The music is sweet. The world is full of love. And Jean-Jacques feels it in the midsummer breeze and the warmth in Yuri’s eyes when he gasps. “You sure you hate me?”

“Quit being stupid.” Yuri isn’t pushing Jean-Jacques away when he puts his arm around him. Kisses him on the cheek. “You’re so lame.” No, he’s smiling. It’s a small smile, and it’s everything to Jean-Jacques.

“Shame you won’t dance with me.“ Jean-Jacques smiles in Yuri’s hair as he watches his parents dance so slowly on the dance floor. They aren’t aware of the other couples. They’re in a carefully contained world they built together over so many years. “But thank you for being my plus one.”

++

Jean-Jacques felt guilty about downloading Grindr. He felt paranoid when he filled out the profile. He didn’t have an associates in gay jargon so he just put down his measurements and made sure the shot in his underwear was edited so no one would see his face and that all his tattoos were hidden.

What would his parents say? _How could you do that to your mother?_ But he couldn’t help it. He was tired of being horny and alone. It wasn’t a permanent solution and besides, he was going to have to blow off some major steam — Yuri Plisetsky was competing in Sydney, too.

Christ, it hurt to look at Yuri Plisetsky. He’d only gotten taller, tighter and more dangerous than ever. He wasn't even eighteen - it made Jean-Jacques feel like a pervert when Plisetsky bent over to get something out of his bag. He was wearing deep pink and it was molded all over that round little bubble butt. Jean-Jacques want to groan when he sat down on the bench.

He could just imagine that light smack as his ass clapped down on the bench.

Jean-Jacques knew Yuri wore boxer briefs. He liked cheetah prints and tiger stripes. He looked better in a dancer’s cup. Mercy, Yuri’s hair was longer. He tossed it back and Jean-Jacques’ fingers gripped as Yuri twisted it in his hands before he tugged it into a hair tie.

He needed to get on that app, right after practice.

“What’re you looking at, asshole?” Those eyes were really turquoise. His lips were glossy. Wet.

Jean-Jacques didn’t even realize he licked his lips. “Looking good, Plisetsky. Women’s is gonna catch some hell with you out there.”

His eyes narrowed. He stood up. He put his hands on his hips and he sneered. “I give everyone hell.” God, Jean-Jacques was getting hard - in his cup. It wasn’t the first time Yuri did this to him, but this wasn’t his usual _fuck off_. This was a challenge, accepted. Were Yuri’s cheeks really that red?

Jean-Jacques never got anything more intense than being the sole focus of Yuri Plisetsky while he was on the ice. It was like being tethered with a hook and Jean-Jacques couldn’t help but tug back a little. He hollered JJ Style after every jump. He whooped every time Yuri jumped, too. Neither fell. Neither faltered on the footwork. Both eyed each other, and every time they passed Jean-Jacques felt the tug pulling him toward that beautiful, angry face. He winked every time.

He was playing with fire and he knew it.

He skipped sightseeing. His father shushed Maman’s concerns away as he walked her out of Jean-Jacques’ suite. “Sorry, just need to rest.” He needed to check Grindr.

It was absurdly simple because he knew exactly what he wanted. Medium height, lean, bitchy, _bottom._ His hands were shaking as he swiped through and his dick throbbed. He’d been aching ever since he changed in the locker room and saw Yuri turn around and show that succulent firm ass framed by the straps of his dance cup. Jean-Jacques wanted to bend him over, smack both hands on each cheek, and tongue fuck Yuri until he screamed Jean-Jacques’ name.

God - there! Jean-Jacques stopped at the picture with no head - just a thin, creamy body spread out over a bed. And he was in the same hotel.

 _Need a strong top. Fuck me. Lots of oral too_.

“Oh, baby.”

Jean-Jacques was actually surprised when he got a chime. And another. No, he didn’t want those. He wanted that creamy body. That was how Yuri Plisetsky looked. That was what Jean-Jacques wanted.

He was actually surprised when he opened the door and found the real thing staring back at him. “Before you say a word - ” Yuri pushed his way inside “- I knew it was you.” He leaned against the door, as if he was expecting Jean-Jacques to put up a fight. “You knew it was me.” He smiled.

Maybe. Probably. “You’re not eighteen.” _Yeah_.

“And I’m not here to talk.”

Jean-Jacques used to picture the crucifixion when he hit puberty. He thought it would make his boners go away, but he ended up thinking about the way that loin cloth looked like it was just about to slip off. And all he could think of was long, lean, toned, bruised bodies made beautiful through pain, every time he came. Bodies as hard and smooth as marble.

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

Where would Jean-Jacques start? God, maybe pull down the tracksuit pants and unzip the top? Suck on his cherry pink nipples? Tug at his pretty pink dick and make him rub that pretty ass up against him? Or maybe -

Jean-Jacques checked the end table alarm clock as Yuri pulled his head down. It was 2:32 pm when Jean-Jacques Leroy pushed Yuri’s pants down. He was wearing the cheetah briefs. His mouth watered when he saw the wet spot. It was the first thing he tasted after he got on his knees. Yuri was still leaning against the door when Jean-Jacques pulled them down. “Turn around.”

++

“The whole point of being your date is being able to fuck when the damn thing is over.” Yuri says this in the Lyft, and it makes Jean-Jacques want to pull Yuri on his lap and forget about the rearview mirror as Yuri grinds. Yuri leans in close. He puts Jean-Jacques’ hand on his crotch and whispers: “Remember the plane?”

Jean-Jacques forgets how to breathe as Montreal becomes a blur of lights around Yuri’s face. “With the magazine,” Jean-Jacques whispers back.

“Over your lap.” The lights move so fast and Yuri thrusts up, just a little. “My hand. Between your legs. Over your pants.” So fast.

Jean-Jacques lets go of his breath and he moves his hand and Yuri chants his name. “Jeh Jeh…” Yuri’s got some kind of magic. “Yeah, Jeh Jeh…” It can make Jean-Jacques do the craziest things.

Yuri’s a pouty, listless wreck by the time Jean-Jacques is tugging him out of the Lyft, into the hotel, the elevator, where Yuri drapes himself over Jean-Jacques and complains. “My underwear is stuck to my dick.” He takes it all off, the shoes, the sky blue suit, and Jean-Jacques groans when those sweet pink briefs come off, too. He likes pulling the bottoms up over Yuri’s cheeks and playing with that ass.

It’s a matter of moments until he’s tumbled Yuri onto the queen size mattress. “Did I thank you for coming to my brother’s wedding?” His hands slide over Yuri’s silky, creamy skin as he presses his forehead against Yuri’s.

“Not nearly enough.” Yuri takes his finger and sucks. Then another. Yuri growls and Jean-Jacques decides kissing is better. It’s always desperate, biting and moaning and chasing after something that’s somewhere inside Yuri. He just needs to try just a little more, hold him down a little harder and yeah - Yuri gasps for air and opens his legs He pushes Jean-Jacques’s head down. _“Yes.”_

Yuri sobs and he says things in Russian not meant for Jean-Jacques to understand, but it’s all for Jean-Jacques, because Yuri can’t stop watching Jean-Jacques grab his hips and ram his tongue in and out of his pussy, over and over. He wishes he could fuck him and eat him out at the same time. He tongue fucks him faster and faster and Yuri is grabbing his hair.

“Oh fuck!“

He swipes his tongue across Yuri’s balls. Yuri yanks his hair. Jean-Jacques shakes his head, but Yuri isn’t letting him go. He tugs down. He wants more. Jean-Jacques grabs Yuri’s dick then looks up just as he opens his mouth and -

He puts his fingers back in Yuri’s mouth as he takes Yuri’s dick so deep down his throat he gags. He doesn’t care. There’s dry come all over it. He doesn’t care. Yuri is still pulling his hair so hard he’s convinced he’s going to come out of this bald. He will never care about any of these things as long as Yuri is his. And he is, right now.

But Jean-Jacques wants more than right now.

++

There were two things Jean-Jacques could be sure of at World’s, because Yuri was his main competition: he might not win gold and he was going to get laid. Yuri’s Grindr messages made both points clear.

_You’re going to go down in every possible way_

Yuri topped it off with a vid of him patting his bare ass. That had to be Jean-Jacques’ favorite.

It had been a month since their first and only time. They never exchanged phone numbers. Never friended on Instagram. They only used Grindr. Only when Jean-Jacques hit the Helsinki terminal. And then - oh, _Crisse_.

Helsinki was Yuri glaring as Jean-Jacques fucked deep into him. It was the same glare Yuri sent his way as he stood out on the ice, waiting for his music to start. Yuri would scream when Jean-Jacques reached down and milked him. Yuri made the same sound when he landed a combination jump. And when Yuri was done? When he threw his head back and finished? Jean-Jacques came in first.

And then there was the podium ceremony. It was just like earlier that morning, when Yuri laid on the bed afterward, flushed and wet with sweat and beautiful and looked up at Jean-Jacques like a wounded animal.

“I’ll beat you.” That was what he'd said on the bed. That was what he kept saying on Grindr. That was what he chanted when he bounced up and down on Jean-Jacques, in time with the smack of their skin, as they fucked.

He was saying it again, on the podium.

Jean-Jacques bent down. He looked him dead in the eye. Then he picked up the silver medal that was resting on Yuri’s heaving chest and kissed it.

Oh, Christ in heaven. Why did Jean-Jacques have to pull a JJ?

Yuri refused to answer his Grindr messages. Refused to look at him at the banquet and stood there like it was a wake as everyone around smiled and laughed. Jean-Jacques made him like this.

He put his champagne down and picked up Yuri’s hand. He didn’t listen to the curses and he didn’t stop unless he had to tug Yuri back as he brought him to the elevator and pushed him up against the metal walls. “I’m sorry.”

Yuri slapped him.

“I was trying to express how much I love the competition.”

He slapped him again.

They glared and their chests heaved and they gritted their teeth as the elevator took them to a floor neither picked and all Jean-Jacques wanted to do was wipe away all the tears brimming in Yuri’s eyes.

Yuri tried to slap him again. But this time Jean-Jacques stopped him. “You bastard!” One tear rolled down his cheek. Jean-Jacques traced his quivering lip. “You made me look like - “

“Look like I love you,” Jean-Jacques said. “Because I do. Sorry, I just wanted to show you. Maybe I messed up. But I’m not in my right mind around you, Plisetsky.”

Yuri’s eyes were so green. And so blue. Like turquoise. “That’s so corny.” His lips were so pink.

Jean-Jacques nodded as he bent his head. But the elevator doors opened and they had no idea where it had stopped.

++

He didn’t expect Yuri to message him after World’s. He figured off-season would be all about training in Toronto and spending off time at Sick Kids. He’d enrolled in a business stat class and watched skating video feeds. He didn’t even open the Grindr app.

But he got a message from Yuri. Jean-Jacques was cooling down with a walk after his morning jog around the university when he heard the alert chime in through U2.

_I want to see you._

Why he wanted fly halfway around the world to see him and how this was even possible became irrelevant as Jean-Jacques messaged back with his number. _Call me_. He didn’t even let the first ring finish. He only had one thing to say when he picked up, and he could not be cool, he could not keep himself from beaming up at the bright beautiful sun as he hollered.

“Yes!”

“Fuck. Why’re you yelling?” His voice was so gravelly. So rough and husky. It was perfect. He was perfect.

“Why aren't you here already? Fly on down. Skate, train. And the other stuff.” The trees were so green. The breeze was warm - he took a deep breath and imagined Yuri here, right now. With him. Soon it would happen. “Please.” And hurry.

“This doesn’t mean I’m your boyfriend or anything. I’m just bored and I want you to show me how to land a combination at the end of my program.” He paused. “And I’m horny. Whatever.”

“Aw, Plisetsky. I -“

He hung up. Jean-Jacques kissed his cross. “You are so merciful.” God should have taken Yuri away from him. He didn’t deserve this. Not after Helsinki. He didn’t deserve Yuri. “And so is your angel.”

++

Yuri is so beautiful when he’s spread out like this, legs apart, arms wide open, panting, nodding, _begging_. “Please, please, Oh fucking _please?_ ” He whimpers as Jean-Jacques angles his fingers and pushes just so. Right there, at the spot where Yuri’s toes curl and his back arches and he grips the sheets.

Oh, yes.

“You were the most beautiful thing at that wedding.” Jean-Jacques’ mouth trails over Yuri’s temple. Over his cheek. His lips. “God, baby! All I could think of was touching you when we were at the church. Right in front of everyone. You got me so hard and all you had to do was look at me.” It was when they were saying their vows. Yuri turned his head just when Linus said, _I do_ , and Jean-Jacques imagined Yuri coming back with him to Toronto. Staying with him in Toronto. He'd already staked his claim on the right side of the bed, a good part of his closet, and Jean-Jacques’ entire heart.

Yuri can’t sneer or tell him to go to hell when he's three fingers deep inside of him. When Jean-Jacques pushes his cock deep inside of him. He can only sob. Sob and say his name. “Jeh Jeh!” Yuri reaches for him. Yuri wraps himself around Jean-Jacques and there is nothing but Yuri. And he is so warm. So warm and so sweet.

Just like home.

++

He made sure to razz Yuri a little about that tight tiger striped shirt on the Lyft to the airport. “You sure as hell didn’t get that in the men’s section.”

“At least I don’t have my initials on my clothes like a little kid.”

They both laughed.

He gave him shit over his cheetah print carry on. “My five-year-old sister has one just like it.”

Yuri combed his hair away from his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, Leroy. Gently fuck off.”

He looked out the glass wall and watched an airplane take off. Pretty soon Yuri would be up in the sky, and Jean-Jacques would be, too. Two different cities. Two different lives. All he could think about was that silly old song his folks loved so much. He and Yuri didn’t even have a song. “I want you to come back with me to Toronto.”

Yuri kissed his cheek. They sat silently together in those horrible plastic molded seats and stared at the planes as they held hands.

Yuri turned when they called for boarding. Jean-Jacques could see so much he wanted to say in Yuri’s eyes, and he couldn’t even begin to get the words out. He just took Yuri’s face in his hands and kissed him goodbye.

Yuri never said yes. Or no.

++

He didn’t expect Yuri to say yes when he asked. Jean-Jacques felt awkward about the situation. When Yuri came to Canada it was a crazy, spur of the moment thing. They were crazy, spur of the moment. Every spare second was spent exploring each other’s bodies. It was almost like… like a honeymoon.

But real life was still happening and Linus’ wedding was still smack dab at the end of Yuri’s stay. Somehow Jean-Jacques had to ask.

Sure, Yuri was worn down from physical therapy. The sauna seemed to make Yuri Plisetsky a noodle, more receptive to long, sloppy kisses that lasted well through Jean-Jacques' study time. But this?

Yuri stretched out on Jean-Jacques’ sofa. He was wearing that old red and black JJ Style tee and nothing else. “Of course I’ll go. I didn’t come to Canada for the training.” He lazily blocked Jean-Jacques when he tried to flick at his nose. “Free food, sex and a day off? Plus you can’t talk in church. That’s a bonus.” He opened one eye like a cat. “Just no corny, mushy shit. I’m not your boyfriend.”

Jean-Jacques beamed. “Oh, baby! I can’t wait for you to meet -“

“I mean it, Leroy.”

Jean-Jacques kissed him. He had never been so happy in his life.

++

Business statistics is a necessary evil. He finds himself assessing the probability of every landing when he jumps, or whether Yuri will text.

He never texts. There are no Grindr messages. It’s been three weeks and Jean-Jacques can barely smell him in his sheets. He won’t touch the coffee cup Yuri left the last day. He uses the shampoo bottle Yuri left. The moisturizer.

Yuri is everywhere in his apartment. Everywhere in his head. Everywhere and yet he’s gone.

He is listening to Dr Dreyfus’ lecture on the speakers in his kitchen as he finishes drying the dishes. Jesus hangs from his cross on the wall and all Jean-Jacques can do is accept his due. This is what happens when people get too attached too quickly. This is the price of having sex without a future. Without strings.

He knows better. He was taught better. Sure, maybe having sex before marriage wasn’t the best idea he ever had, and Yuri Plisetsky is still too young. Jean-Jacques is too corny, too old-fashioned.

He should just be grateful for what he got. “I’m sorry,” he says to the cross. “I’m only human.”

Then he hears the phone alert over Dr Dreyfus’ monotone voice. He expects it to to be his brother Alex. There’s going to be a skate off at the church but Jean-Jacques has to study for finals. Summer is almost over.

But it’s not Alex.

Jean-Jacques sees the Grindr notif and Yuri’s name and he can barely understand the words. He has to reread the message several times out loud. _What’s the name of that horrible song from the wedding? The one your parents danced to._

His hands are shaking. _I Can Dream About You_

_You better eat me out for a year after this_

There is a knock.

No, it’s not possible. Jean-Jacques must’ve tripped on air because he swears his feet aren’t even touching the ground. He’s flying toward the door and sunshine beams inside as Yuri Plisetsky is revealed, incredibly. It’s a miracle.

He holds up his phone and hits play. And it’s - it’s _that song_. It’s terrible and cheesy and Jean-Jacques is going to love it forever as Yuri rolls his eyes.

Jean-Jacques sees that same cheetah case, and another one. It’s a pet carrier.

Yuri holds out his hand. “Come here, asshole. I owe you a dance.” Jean-Jacques gasps as Yuri pulls him into the hallway and wraps his arms around him. “I’m just your roommate. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

He closes his eyes as they slow dance in the hallway and says a silent prayer of thanks. “Love you, too.”

Yuri is leading and it feels just right. “Fuck you.”

It’s perfect.


End file.
